what if your last words
had you sitting in your car,
hands on the steering wheel,
camera's eye on you.
masked men against a woman,
praying that nobody dies;
kid in the back, kids at home,
your wife at your side.
masked men against women,
trying to get back home.
it's fine, dude, i'm not mad at you
as you think of the kid in the back
and your wife at your side
and you just desperately try to leave.
now the entire country
has an opinion on your name
you died for what feels like nothing,
no more truth to claim.
the lies spilled from bitter mouths
all about you, telling the world
that you're not what you are.
you lived your life, you tried,
and now look at all that's been left behind.
people watch the video
and they see what they want to see.
whether you're a hero or a villain,
you'll never get to be:
mother, friend, wife, the sort of person
who lives an ordinary, beautiful life.
it's the same story
that you've heard before.
people who decide to hate you
without ever knowing you,
just because of what you are.
they control the narrative,
and you're left grasping at straws.
(you just wanna come back;
you've got kids to raise, man,
and you were just starting new.)
door to door, another man down,
citizen doesn't matter, not to them;
at least you were white and not brown.
another fatality, cooperation or lack thereof aside.
anne frank's been given up
by people who think they're the good guys.